


Just Plain Bill

by eideann



Category: Supernatural, The Closer
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, No Characters from Supernatural, S1xE12 Fatal Retraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7739983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eideann/pseuds/eideann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill Croelick was a serial killer . . . or was he?</p><p>
  <i>This is an exploration of one version of my beta's and my head canon for Bill.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Plain Bill

* * *

Brenda sighed as she walked out into the parking garage, rolling her neck a little.  She wished solving her case hadn’t opened up problems with so many others, but regardless of Taylor’s irritation, the DA’s offense or anything else, the truth was what they all strove to uncover, and the truth was that Bill Croelick hadn’t killed Lisa Barnes or Samantha Jones, whoever else he might have killed.

A voice from the shadows made her raise her head.  “My, my, my, what a lot of trouble you’ve caused for yourself.”  Bill Croelick’s sounded deeply amused, and Brenda stopped, squinting at a dark figure amid the cars.  “And all for me.”  He sauntered between the vehicles towards her.  “Imagine Dr. Easton, having an affair with a rape victim, then murdering her just to keep it quiet.”  He paused, his eyes intent on her face, and spoke slowly.  “What a monster, wouldn’t you say?”

Brenda’s eyes narrowed.  “I don’t believe in monsters,” she said dismissively and turned to go on to her car.  She didn’t really expect that the conversation was over, but she could hope.  Turning her back on the man thought to have killed several women of her type felt alarming, but she wasn’t giving him more credence than he deserved.

“Tell me, plain Brenda,” he said, and she paused, irritated by his inability to let go.  “Do you smoke after sex?” he asked unexpectedly.  She turned in offended incredulity.  For this man to pose that question was appalling.  As she stared, he took a step or so towards her, smiling faintly.  “It’s an old joke, you know how it goes,” he said, his malicious amusement evident.  “Do you smoke after sex?” he asked again, as if she should just play along.

Maybe it would get rid of him.  Her voice rich with venom, she gave the standard answer.  “I don’t know, I never looked.”

A faint smile crossed Bill’s face.  “Well, let’s just leave it that way, shall we?”  His intense expression seemed to lend extra weight to his words.  “Not looking.”  The little smile shifted just enough to be almost real.  “Let’s just leave things the way they are.”  He turned away and started to walk off.  Brenda wondered what that had been about, because it didn’t seem to match the rest of the conversation.  Abruptly he turned towards her again, and the malicious humor was back.  “And have a nightcap on the way home, why don’t you?  A little triple martini, in my honor.”  He winked with a small laugh, then walked away.  Oddly, he flung his arms out to the side like a child pretending to fly, whistled briefly, then continued walking away without turning.

Reflecting that he was the next best thing to crazy, she went to her car and headed home.

* * *

Bill Croelick sat in the front seat of his pickup, which he’d retrieved from friends after his release from prison.  Just plain Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson didn’t know there were monsters in the world, and she was going to be irritated by being central to the release a serial killer.  Bill snorted wryly.  So-called serial killer.

He wished he fought things that ceased to look human after they died, but he didn’t, and he was highly specialized.  His prey almost required it.  A lot of work went into finding and hunting down the spider things that came over here from Japan on cargo ships.  Unfortunately, most of the damage that the girogumo did to the human body upon taking it over and destroying the host was wiped out by the method required to kill it.

He wondered how Miss Chief Johnson was taking his little game with her.  He’d had to check, though.  Brenda Leigh Johnson had the kind of personality that could have been one of those in the know.  She was focused on her work in a way that might make her the sort who would kick a supernatural case to a hunter and go back to her own quarry.  As it happened, he was pretty sure she didn’t have a clue.  As such, she was going to be all over him until she crammed him back in prison for his “crimes.”

Maybe he should move to San Francisco or Stockton.  Both were port cities, both would have their share of nasties from Japan.  He doubted he could make the move work, though.  He sighed and started the engine, shifting into gear.  Just plain Brenda.  Maybe he’d overdone the serial killer patter a little with her, but he’d had to check.

She was one hell of a cop.  And she was bound to be a pain in the ass.


End file.
